Top 5 TV show concepts

1. The Alternative Britain's Got Talent
I obviously despise Britain's Got Talent – partly because people on it don't have any; partly because it's so fake and tacky and ugly. I'd like to see an alternative version, where people with genuine, original talent and imagination are showcased, not just ugly people singing cover versions of crap songs. Christ.

2. Walk a Mile in My Shoes
Erm #1, a somewhat controversial concept this. Take a young child (aged 4-8, say) and see how far they get walking on their own (from a shop to home, maybe, or taking the tube), filming their responses and experiences along the way with hidden cameras. Parents watch events unfold via a mobile van.

3. A Couple Abroad
Travel show meets adventure show where each week a couple is separated at opposite ends of a foreign city (preferably chaotic, exotic and dangerous: Lagos, Jakarta, etc) and have five hours to find each other without phones, money or maps.

4. CSI (Crime Scene Investigation) Historical
Erm #2, this is from a previous post from years ago, but still holds true. And I quote:
'This will be part-documentary, part-drama, as our anal team look back at unsolved real life cases and mysteries through history and apply their state-of-the-art forensic technology to reproduce them, and try and solve them.
First episode: Michael Jackson.
Other episodes: Princess Diana, Marilyn Monroe, JFK, Elvis Presley, Roswell, crop circles, how Gordon Brown got to be Prime Minister, etc.'

5. Big Brother Special Needs Special
Erm #3, this is also from the same previous post:
'The popularity of Big Brother Tourette's Syndrome sufferer Pete Bennett proved that disabilities can be compulsive viewing. So why stop there? Let's have Big Brother Special Needs Syndrome Special with an assortment of people with disabilities and mental health issues including Down's syndrome, autism, bi-polar, schizophrenia and cerebral palsy.'

Previously on Barnflakes:
Top 10 great ideas

Chips vs French Fries

Things prefaced with the word 'French' often sound far more sophisticated (even if they're actually not): French Toast (ie eggy bread), French Kissing (ie tongues), French Letters (ie condoms) and French Fries (ie the American name for chips. Confusingly, Kiwis and Aussies call chips crisps and chips hot chips. Kiwis call Kiwi fruit Chinese gooseberries but the rest of the world call them Kiwi fruit. Jerusalem artichokes are neither from Jerusalem nor artichokes).

The traditional British chippy is rapidly becoming a thing of the past. On a recent trip to Brighton it took us over half an hour to find one. Though I have no aversion to French fries, the skinny little things can't hold a stick up to our traditional thickly cut chips, drenched in salt and vinegar (ketchup optional; unlike with French fries where it's de rigueur) and eaten in the lashing rain and wind.

French fries are doing a similar thing to what coffee has done to the UK's taste buds: making us believe we enjoy something we don't. Tea is obviously nicer than coffee; chips are obviously better than French fries. But both tea and chips occupy the old-fashioned past of British culture we want to forget; they belong to the old generation. The old-fashioned tea room can't compete with the modern, upbeat coffee shop; the old-fashioned chippy, full of old and/or poor people, looks obsolete compared to fast food joints. Coffee and French fries have that American, on-the-go lifestyle feel to them. Due to the lower surface-to-volume ratio, chips have less fat than French fries.

The cost of camels

The man's Cheshire Cat grin got progressively wider and wider as our guesses for the price of a camel in Abu Dhabi got progressively further and further off the mark. £1000? £200? Well, actually more like £125,000. I've been offered upwards of fifty camels for various girlfriends in various North African countries – maybe I should have taken them up on their offers. But racing camels are a different breed of camel altogether – literally. Racing camels are like racing horses, and command similar prices. Former Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi apparently owned three rare breed black camels, highly valued in the Gulf states. We saw camels racing at the Lambeth County Show last month. They weren't very fast, one was called Bertie, but I like camels, not as noble as horses, but possessing more character, they're quite possibly a tad stupid, but steadfast, cheeky and with bags of stamina. In the butchers in Libya one finds camel meat for sale; to advertise the fact, live camels are sat around outside the premises, seemingly oblivious to the fact that dead camel heads are sitting near them with their oesophaguses in their mouths.

Today's List #1

• Spoonful of Collapsed Atoms
• Dance of the Fonts
• Barnatea
• Cult of Personality
• Everything is Vintage
• Colonel Panic, Captain Sensible and Corporal Punishment
• The Grateful Bed
• These Brutish Isles
• The Agony of Choice
• Bruce Springsteen and the East Street Market
• Salty Sex
• Anti-social Media
• Hapax Legomenon

London libraries #1: Peckham

"It is an absolute public disgrace that for the last 30 years the main bulwark and protection for children and their reading in our culture, namely the public and school library services, and particularly the spending on books, has been cut, cut and cut again until our libraries are now a brave but struggling shadow of their former selves."
– David Fickling, Publisher & Editor 

In theory, libraries are great. They've got loads of books in them and homeless people too. Now they've also got CDs, DVDs and computers. My mum worked in a library for years. A recent survey concluded that librarian is the most stressful job in the world. She used to hire me out CDs for nothing but the new system meant she (that is, I) had to pay. That's progress. Libraries aren't even about books anymore. They're about targets, profits and Polish au pair girls waiting to use the internet. Recently librarians had to complete a course – about how to judge a book by its cover (this is true).

For me, walking into a library used to feel like walking into a church. I got a feeling of serenity and sometimes awe. I liked the silence and that vast bank of information (books!) and all the people lost in their own thoughts and other peoples thoughts and words. Libraries are as old as civilisation itself.

Peckham Library was designed by Alsop & Störmer in 2000 and won the Sterling Prize for Architecture for that year. In an age when they're closing down across the country, and physical books an anachronism, the success of libraries like the Peckham one and the recently refurbished Henry Tate building in Streatham show how current, rewarding and positive libraries can be.

A recent pointless poll by American Express of the UK's top fifty 'urban gems' placed Peckham's library on the list.

Previously on Barnflakes:
London through its charity shops

The Ch-ch-ch-changes finally on DVD

 

Exciting news for fans of classic 1970s sci-fi children's BBC TV serials (isn't that everyone?): the BFI is finally releasing the DVD of The Changes, along with Out of the Unknown and Red Shift, a play adapted by Alan Garner and based on his novel. 

Read the BFI announcement here.

Previously on Barnflakes:

Children of the 1970s, which looks at The Owl Service, Penda's Fen, The Changes and Children of the Stones. Penda's Fen is still begging for a DVD release.

Random Film Review: The Pleasure Garden

Dir: James Broughton | UK | 1953 | 37min

This short, black and white 'poetic ode to desire' is a real curio, filmed entirely in the terraces of Crystal Palace Park by American filmmaker and poet James Broughton. The film itself is a light souffle and very dated, interesting for featuring Hattie Jacques, John Le Mesurier and Lindsay Anderson, who would later direct the classic If... (1968) starring Malcolm McDowell. The Pleasure Garden has Le Mesurier as Colonel Pall K. Gargoyle enforcing his strict moral code, banning any kind of fun in the park by placing signs all around. Pleasure is eventually restored by Mrs Albion, a fairy godmother of sorts, played by Hattie Jacques, who banishes the Colonel from the park.

The real interest in the film, for me, lies in the location of the film: the terraces of Crystal Palace Park in 1953 is overgrown and littered with abandoned statues, many of which have now vanished from the park. Of the 77 original sculptures now only a handful remain, most of which are headless. Of the original dozen sphinxes, now only six remain, and they are in a state of dilapidation. Also, various fountains, urns, plinths, the Crystal Colonnade and the bandstand have either been demolished, lost, stolen or sold. In 1957 lots of the statues were auctioned off. It's a real shame; many of the statues and features survived the Crystal Palace fire and can clearly be seen in good condition in the 1953 film, some hundred years after the disaster, but in the years since the park has fallen into disrepair and neglect.

Fantastic research here of the original statues.

Previously on Barnflakes:
Deep excavations
London through its charity shops #25: Crystal Palace
The dinosaurs of Crystal Palace

Pic of the day: Lou and James

Top ten girls names in songs

1. Virginia Plain – Roxy Music
2. Suzanne – Leonard Cohen
3. Angie – Rolling Stones
4. Layla – Derek and the Dominos
5. Lola* – The Kinks
6. Roxanne – The Police
7. Sara – Bob Dylan
8. Caroline Says II – Velvet Underground
9. Caroline, No – The Beach Boys
10. Cecilia – Simon and Garfunkel

*Erm, actually a man.

Near coincidences

I have a friend who tries to impress with stories of almost seeing famous people. I tend to needle him about this – but I am almost impressed; after all, he was standing in the space where Bryan Ferry stood just a few minutes before; at a party where Madonna left early. I appreciate the almost in life probably more than the actual. (He has a similar technique with architecture. Always notices the charm in an old building and makes a mental note of taking a photo of it but by the time he actually goes back to take the photo, the old building has gone, vanished. A glass and steel office block / Pret A Manger / ugly luxury apartment block [delete as applicable] is usually in its place.)

I'm the same with near coincidences; the only thing about them is no one knows if they've actually occurred. This is a minor point; the possibilities of near, missed coincidences is endless, though completely pointless even contemplating.

It could be an old friend you haven't seen for twenty years; let's say he's Australian. One year he visits your home country, the UK. He doesn't get in touch because he lost your details years ago; maybe he doesn't even know your surname (maybe he doesn't want to get in touch; let's imagine it's the days before Facebook). Anyway. So. You brush past each other at Waterloo Station and don't even notice. And never do. Never will.

Or it could be someone you've lived with for years; turns out you have a mutual friend you'll never know about. Or you were both at the same wedding in 2003 (you didn't meet until 2011). Or you were both in Shoreditch one sunny day in June 1997. Whatever.

There are probably hundreds of such near coincidences with everyone we know; it's just impossible to find out all of them, and mostly irrelevant too. I found out some with an ex-work colleague recently: we both went to the same art college at the same time, lived in the same seaside town at the same time; a film-maker friend of his was born in a small town I used to live near – his mother has recently moved there... and so on.

Actual coincidences are often amazing and head-spinning but near or missed coincidences are overlooked as they're not known about. But they're out there all the time. Nearly.

A Life In Art

I really don't have a problem with (say) Tracey Emin not being able to paint or draw. So what? When she declares that there's no separation between her life and her art, she reveals herself to be a true artist. So, if she can do it, why can't all of us?

It occurs to me I will probably never have enough room to display all my stuff. And it occurs to me I want to display My Life Of Crap. I want it out there. In public. Maybe just for a week or two (I'm not that much of an egotist). I'd been to see the Chris Marker exhibition at the Whitechapel gallery. He'd died recently and I thought the exhibition was like a celebration of his life, with his films, photos, travel guides but also letters, notebooks, sketches. This is how I want my stuff displayed in a similarly sized gallery. A huge space to display my life's work: paintings, drawings, sculptures*, films, photographs, sure, but also newspaper clippings, books and magazines, records and CDs, posters, clothes, toys, bric-a-brac. But I actually want to be alive when this happens, and curate it. Everything will be for sale (there would be barngains galore).

The idea of preserving an artist's or writer's room exactly as it was, ie Charles Dickens' or Thomas Hardy's study or Lawrence of Arabia's house, is how we should all be remembered. I've written about this before; that a gravestone is essentially a boring, impersonal reminder of a person's life, and far more intimate and relevant would be a recreation of the dead person's living room or bedroom with all their stuff. This is us now, right? Our stuff? (Even if it's digital stuff, it's still stuff.)

*Someone will have to recreate the giant plug switch I made out of leaves and grass and the huge cardboard light switch, the mini cinemas, palace of mirrors, etc.

Previously on Barnflakes:
Head in the Clouds
The Museum of Everyone

Top ten rain songs

1. Singin' in the Rain Gene Kelly
2. Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head BJ Thomas
3. I Can't Stand the Rain Tina Turner
4. A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall Bob Dylan
5. Here Comes the Rain Again Eurythmics
6. Purple Rain Prince
7. Hey Mr Rain Velvet Underground
8. It's Raining Men Gerri Halliwell
9. Why Does it Always Rain On Me? Travis
10. Rain The Beatles

(FYI: This is post #700)

Heron tower fish tank

If you're ever find yourself taking part in an obscure London pub quiz and there's a question along the lines of 'What London office block employs three full-time divers to clean its fish tank?' you will now be able to answer without hesitation: The Heron Tower in Bishopsgate. Yup, it's true. The lobby of the building contains a 70,000-litre fresh water aquarium containing hundreds of tropical fish. Opened since 2011, the tank is Britain's largest privately owned aquarium. The three permanently on-site divers are employed to clean the tank twice a week. We didn't find out if they were pen pushers the rest of the week, only donning underwater gear for cleaning duties.

Elsewhere in Bishopsgate:
St Ethelburga's

St Ethelburga's

 © Copyright Robin Sones and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence

Following my previous post about peace and war museums, yesterday evening I found myself in St Ethelburga's Centre for Reconciliation and Peace. Formerly St Ethelburga's church, it was almost completely destroyed by the 1993 IRA bomb which caused extensive damage around Bishopsgate. Some 500 tonnes of glass were broken in the explosion and damage amounted to some £1bn. Mercifully, the bomb was detonated on a Saturday; only one person was killed and 44 injured. The church was only seven metres away from the truck bomb.

It  was reconstructed as a peace and reconciliation centre after the bomb and is now an oasis of peace, relaxation and beauty in the city. Dwarfed by the office buildings around it, the centre consists of projects, events and services focusing on 'transforming conflict and division into new relationships and peaceful communities', set in a lovely environment consisting of the rebuilt church, a yurt and secret garden.

www.stethelburgas.org 

Previously on Barnflakes:
More horses

The Imperial Peace Museum

The Imperial War Museum reopens its doors this week after a £40m transformation. It strikes me as rather distasteful, the idea of a war museum, and whilst war (and porn for that matter) are responsible for some positive things, such as advances in technology and science, it still seems bizarre that war is celebrated in such an unashamedly bold way.

I have actually been to a peace museum (the only one of its kind in the UK, in Bradford), which I think is a great idea, but it was rather underwhelming and underfunded (there's more money in war). It explores the 'often untold stories of peace, peacemakers, social reform and peace movements'. But I guess, peace just isn't as exciting as war. Guns and bombs and fighter planes are cool (though pointless death isn't). What does peace have to offer? Peace pipes?